by Alys West
Once he’d taken his helmet off, he walked over the gravel drive to the front door and pounded on it. Peering through the frosted-glass panel, he saw a slim figure walking towards him. Not tall enough or bulky enough to be Andrew. But his car was here so he must be in.
The door opened on a waft of floor polish and expensive perfume. The woman holding it was in her late forties, immaculately turned out in trousers, shirt and some complicated piece of knitwear that draped over her slender body.
“Mrs Stewart?” When she nodded, he took a step closer but she didn’t move back. “My name’s Winston Grant. I’m a friend of Jenna’s. I met your husband earlier this week and there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with him.” It took a massive effort to keep his tone calm but he couldn’t stop his hand curling around his staff on the thong at his neck.
“I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey.” Felicity relaxed slightly, her grip on the door easing. “He got the early flight to Edinburgh. He’s not back until tomorrow.”
Winston put his hand on the door and pushed. If she thought she could brush him off so easily then she’d got it wrong. “I don’t think so. His car’s here. So I’m guessing he’s here—”
Felicity’s hand slipped from the handle and, as the door swung fully open, he walked inside.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I have to speak to him.” Striding through the porch, he entered a high-ceilinged hall. Half a dozen identical oak doors led from it. Andrew could be behind any one of them. Hiding away, knowing what he’d done, while his wife protected him. It was exactly the cowardly behaviour he expected from a man who put his niece under a coercion spell.
“You can’t. As I said, he’s not here.”
Winston flung open the nearest door. Cloakroom. The one after was a study. Andrew wasn’t in it. The third had a wide screen TV, a battered-looking sofa and two wide-eyed boys who were staring at him.
“What’s going on Mum?” the eldest one said.
Fuck! He’d forgotten about the kids. Jenna’d never forgive him if he terrorised her cousins. If she was ever the same again. If this bloody coercion spell didn’t lock her back behind the walls she’d only recently started to dismantle.
He spun on his heel and headed for the door. As he passed Felicity, he stopped and met her gaze. “Tell your husband I know what he’s done to Jenna and he’s going to answer for it. To me.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Her words were pitched so only he could hear.
“Andrew knows who I am.” Pushing his face close to hers, Winston spoke quietly. “He doesn’t know what I can do yet but he will. He’s messed with the wrong person because I care about Jenna—”
“Mum?” A small voice, laced with fear, came from behind them. He had to go.
“Thanks for your time, Mrs Stewart,” Winston said as he stepped through the door. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“You are not coming to the party. I don’t know who you are Mr Grant but—”
“Dr Grant actually. And it’s too late.” Turning to look at her, he forced a smile. “I’m already on the guest list. Your husband invited me.”
The door slammed in his face.
***
With sawing and hammering going on downstairs as the joiner fitted the new door, Rachel retreated to her bedroom. She put Jenna’s note on the desk and went to the bookshelf. The black folder was on the bottom shelf. She slid it out, crossed to the bed and sat down.
Her fingers traced, as they always did, the unicorn’s mane. She turned the pages over until she reached the back. Taped to the inside cover were two letters. Rachel ran her finger over each straight edge and then the names.
Then she closed it, pressing her hand flat against its cover. What’d she been thinking? How could she possibly meet Jenna? It was a mad idea. Knowing what she did, how could she sit down and have a conversation about Nina. It was only going to end one way and that couldn’t possibly be good.
Picking up the note, she screwed it into a ball and dropped it into the bin. After returning the folder to its place on the bookcase, she plucked Moonlight Magic, the first of the Earth Magician series from the top shelf. She needed comfort reading and Blade and Serena never let her down.
***
Arriving at the airport, Winston asked the taxi driver to wait. He walked through the automatic doors into the small arrivals lounge which also doubled as the airport’s coffee shop. An aroma of cooking bacon and heated carbs drifted over to him.
He checked the nearest screen. Grace’s flight was on time. He exhaled sharply. At least one thing was going according to plan today.
He’d not gone back to the dig after he’d left the Stewarts’. There was no way he could concentrate. He’d rung Jim and made an excuse about feeling under the weather. Jim had been sympathetic, telling him to rest up and get better as they were expecting an influx of visitors for the site open day tomorrow. Winston had mumbled a reply. He was entirely prepared to fake illness tomorrow if he had to. The last thing he needed was a day of dealing with the public and answering questions from idiots who thought they were experts because they’d watched a few episodes of Time Team.
He’d spent the afternoon locked in his room at the B&B trying to piece the evidence together, trying to figure out who was helping Andrew because he had to have a tame spellworker somewhere. Was he buying their services? Doing magic for profit was against the Tenets of Spellwork but with The Order gone and no one to stop them, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were folk who’d decided to make a quick buck.
He’d put out a few feelers to people he trusted in the magical community asking if they knew of anyone who was trading spells. He’d had a couple of replies, both in the negative. He’d looked again at the evidence he’d accumulated on Andrew’s business activities which formed a far clearer picture now he knew Andrew had access to magic. That in itself wasn’t enough. He needed to find out who was doing magic for him if he was going to convince Jenna that her uncle was behind this spell.
Although the decisions she’d made today had got to help. If she remembered. He’d have to ask Grace what, if anything, she’d recall when she came out of it.
A flurry of activity on the opposite side of the glass doors became the bustle of passengers arriving. As the word ‘Edinburgh’ and the arrival time flashed up on the screen, he realised Andrew Stewart might return early, might be on this flight. Winston’s hand rose to his staff, closed around it. If there was going to be a confrontation, then so be it. Andrew had a lot more to lose than he did. But Jenna’s uncle wasn’t among the group passing through the glass doors. The last of them was Grace, walking more slowly, leaning more heavily on her stick than he remembered.
He dodged around a group waiting by the tiny luggage carousel. She stopped and put her arms out.
“Winston! Still as handsome as ever,” she said as she hugged him.
“Flatterer.” He stepped back and looked at her. It was seven years since he’d last seen her and time had not been kind. More lines creased her face, her hands were gnarled by arthritis, her body bowed. Only her hair was as he remembered, bright flaming curls artfully dyed in layers of ruby, pink and purple.
Taking the small case from her, he picked it up. Matching his pace to hers, they talked about the journey and Grace’s health until they passed through the doors into the car park. As they crossed the asphalt to the taxi, she said, “How’s Jenna?”
“It’s a coercion spell.”
“Oh no!” Grace faltered, her stick out of sync with her stride. She looked up at him. “You’re sure?”
There was too much to explain here. He’d tell her when they got to the B&B. “I’m sure.”
“Hell! They’re a bugger to lift. Even Nina struggled.”
He should have known that. She’d had to do the spell at least twice. “Jenna’s got Nina’s grimoires. Will they help?”
“Definitely. Nina made detailed notes in her grimoires. If
we’d got them I’d feel a lot more confident about lifting it.”
“There’s only one problem with that.” Winston glanced past her, looking out over the rolling green hills beyond the airport’s car park. “There’s no way Jenna’s going to give those grimoires to me.”
Chapter 39
The blare of an official announcement punched into Zoe’s unconscious drowning out the woman’s voice. It grew louder, more insistent, tugging her out of the dream.
Zoe sat up and blinked. Finn had gone. The seat next to her held only her bag and Amber’s book. Around her people were tugging on coats and picking up luggage. Through the ferry’s windows, she saw houses edging the shore. Must be Stromness.
The dream remained vivid, swirling through her mind. She scrabbled through her bag until she found pencil and sketchpad, sat back and closed her eyes. But the picture wouldn’t come. It was as if there was a thick fog. Only the voice was clear. A woman’s but the words she’d spoken had been swallowed by the fog between them. There were sensations though, conveyed by the tone rather than the words. Panic, terror and loss. She wrote them down. Was it the same person as before? Or was this the new direction her dreams were taking?
A familiar wave of fear washed over her but she pushed it down. Her dreams were a gift. It wasn’t only Finn who said that. Winston and Grace believed it too. Whoever this person was they needed her. She had to keep it together for them. She wasn’t the scared girl she’d been at Anam Cara. She was trying to become the seer Finn had always thought she was.
Standing, Zoe put on her coat and picked up her bag. Instead of joining the queue of passengers descending to the car deck, she opened the salt-smeared glass door. The tang of the sea was immediate, mixed with diesel fumes from the ship’s engines. Finn stood by the ship’s rail looking quite ridiculously handsome in his cream cable jumper, jeans and sturdy boots.
She slipped her arm around his waist as she joined him, needing his warmth, his solidity. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she said, gesturing to the town climbing the hill and the low green hills around it.
“Not as pretty as you.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
“Erm, thanks.”
He laughed against her hair. “Alright, not my best compliment.”
“You think?”
She knew what was coming from the way his gaze lingered before his mouth met hers, soft and intense, heavy with promise.
“Later,” she said.
“If Winston’s not given our bed away.”
He’d texted before the ferry sailed to say he was on his way to the airport to pick up Grace. Although she was pleased at the prospect of meeting Grace, she hoped Winston had thought to find her somewhere to sleep. From what he’d said earlier and the brief texts they’d received as they drove through Scotland, she wouldn’t put any money on his head being together enough for that kind of practicality.
Finn stepped away from the rail and she moved in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I had another dream.” Stromness was really close now. A man was digging in his garden, a couple walked, hand in hand, down the street. It felt strange to be this near to them on a moving ship.
“Did you draw it?”
“It wasn’t that kind of dream. It was like the one this morning. As if someone was searching for me but I couldn’t hear what she said.”
“She?”
“Yes. It was definitely a woman.”
“Could it be Jenna?”
“Oh my God!” She swivelled to look at him. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Finn half-shrugged. “Easier to see from the outside sometimes.”
“It could be Jenna. But she doesn’t know me. Why’s she trying to contact me?”
“Maybe she’s not. She might be trying to get through to all of us but you’re the only one who can hear her.”
“Poor Jenna.” Zoe wrapped her arms around Finn. “She sounds so scared.”
“Being under a spell is bloody terrifying. In some ways I was lucky. Once the tree took me, I was pretty much out of it. Jenna’s still trying to find a way back.”
Zoe tightened her grip until her head was resting on Finn’s chest. “So what do I do?”
“Keep trying to get through to her.”
“Like that’s not easier said than done.”
Finn’s chin brushed the top of her head. “No one said any of this was easy.”
Leaning back, she met his gaze. “How are you holding up? You ready for this?”
“It’s easier now we’re here. Now I can see it—” he gestured at the town “—and know the storm witch lives over there.”
“Because it’s not Glastonbury?”
“Exactly.”
The ship’s tannoy sliced through the moment of silence, announcing they’d be docking in five minutes and asking the remaining passengers to return to their cars.
Finn took her hand as they crossed the deck. At the door, Zoe hesitated. “What do we tell Winston? About my dream?”
“Nothing yet. Let’s wait until we’re sure it’s Jenna.” Finn’s hand tightened on hers. “Because if he’s going through what I think he’s going through then this’ll hurt like hell.”
***
As he turned the corner, Winston spotted Finn’s four-wheel drive parked outside the B&B. He’d intended to be there to meet them but it’d taken longer than he’d expected to fill Grace in on what’d happened, take her out for a bite to eat and then escort her to her guesthouse near the hospital by which time she was stifling enormous yawns behind her hand. As he’d woken her before five this morning he couldn’t complain when she turned down the offer to meet Finn and Zoe, saying she needed an early night.
If the truth were told, he’d not been as conscious of time as he could have been. Because although he was happy to see them, neither Finn or Zoe would accept anything less than the truth. And courage for that was in fairly short supply.
After letting himself in, he jogged up the stairs and hammered on the door of room 4. This was the nice double. He’d made sure Cathy gave them this room. The other double didn’t have enough room to swing a kitten.
The door opened and Finn stood there. “What time do you call this? We’ve driven across the width of Northern Ireland and the length of Scotland and you can’t even be bothered to be here when we arrive.”
“Sorry, I…”
Then Finn was grabbing his arm and pulling him into a hug. Winston pounded him on the back twice before he pulled away. Fuck, it was good to see him. Not that he was going to let him see that. “You found it then? Didn’t get lost and end up in Shetland?”
Finn rolled his eyes as he stepped back. “You’re right about one thing. There are no trees. It’s weird.”
“Told you.”
Then Zoe was in front of him, looking tentative and concerned. “Are you alright?” she whispered as her arms went round him. “I’ve been so worried.”
Words jammed in his throat. Sympathy always caught him unawares. He coughed. “It’s not me we need to worry about.”
Taking a step back, she frowned at him. “How is Jenna?”
“I don’t bloody well know.” He crossed his arms to stop himself doing something stupid with them. “She won’t talk to me.”
“You said in your text that she’s leaving, taking the flat in Edinburgh.”
“That’s right. But I didn’t hear it from her. Her colleague told me as if…” His throat closed and he paced to the window, looked down at the street below.
“And you’re sure it’s her uncle who’s behind this?” Finn asked.
“He’s the one who wanted her to leave. It’s got to be him. I don’t know who he got to do the spell for him yet. I went over to his house to try to talk to him but he wasn’t there.” His hands tightened into impotent fists at the memory of the small scared faces of Jenna’s cousins.
“You look like you need a drop of this.” Finn picked a bottle up off the chest of drawe
rs.
Winston’s eyebrows rose as he saw the black and white logo that’d become familiar during his stay in Orkney. “Highland Park! How much did that cost you?”
“Duty free. On the first ferry.” Finn grabbed two glasses from the tea-tray. “Have I mentioned we had to take two? Just saying, seeing as you made a song and dance about riding from Glasgow to Glastonbury.”
“Yeah but then you made me walk up the Tor to meet you. At least I’ve sorted you out a nice B&B.”
“Only because Zoe’s here. If I was here on my own you’d have made me sleep on the floor.”
Christ, he’d missed him! “Shut up and get that open. A man could die of thirst around here.”
“We’ve only got two glasses. Someone’s going to have to use a mug.”
“I will,” Zoe said. “I’m not sure I like it.”
Finn poured two very generous measures and a smaller one for Zoe and handed them round.
As he raised his glass, his gaze met Finn’s. “To friends,” Finn said.
Winston chinked his glass against his. “Who drive miles when you need them.”
Zoe touched her mug, the earthenware making a dull clunk against the glasses. Her gaze flickered between the two of them, reading their reactions.
Winston let the spirit slide down his throat, the peaty taste hitting as the liquid warmth spread. “God, that’s good.”
Zoe wrinkled her nose. “It tastes like someone burnt something.”
“Heathen.” Finn whipped the mug from her hand and knocked the contents back.
“Thief.” Glancing up, Zoe nudged him with her elbow.
The look Finn gave her expressed all that needed saying about their relationship. Seeing it felt like a punch in the gut. He’d had that. Or, at least, something which could have grown into that. For a few short hours, it’d felt like he wasn’t looking in from the outside anymore. He’d had Jenna in his arms and he’d been half of a whole. Then he’d lost her. And it hurt like nothing had since he discovered Amber had stolen his life-story for her stupid book.
